


The Con Job

by BarefootGirl



Category: Leverage
Genre: Addiction, Alcoholism, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarefootGirl/pseuds/BarefootGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan Ford is about to run the best con of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Con Job

He doesn’t believe in a higher power.

Or rather, he does – did – but that higher power isn’t going to shoulder his problems, take anything away from him, restore anything to him. No, the higher power in his universe just piles it on to see how much you can take, and then steps back and lets you deal with it.

And so, Nathan Ford is dealing with it.

The double shot of Irish sits there, a pool of golden brown in the clear glass. Not hiding in a soda can, or disguised in a coffee mug. It is what it is.

It’s solace, and an odd sort of clarity. It’s anesthesia from the weight on the back of his neck. It’s an understanding lover in liquid form, and if he takes that promise, that seduction, he would sleep well tonight, for the first time in months.

The 12 step program would tell him the first step was to admit that he was powerless over alcohol.

Nate Ford had been powerless before. Before Death, he would – reluctantly, eventually, bloodied from the struggle - bow.

He would not be powerless over anything else, ever again.

Not even himself.

He lifts the glass to his nose, breathes in the sweet, sharp odor. At the back of his throat, an itch begs to be scratched. The flesh inside his mouth waters, anticipating. His tongue curls slightly, imagining, anticipating the first splash of heat from glass to lips.

His eyes close, and he savors that anticipation.

And then he smiles.

He wants this. He might, in fact, need it.

That does not mean he is going to take it.

And he places the glass down on the counter, untouched, and steps away.

#

He doesn’t believe in the team.

Not after Sophie broke it. Not after he got sober, looked himself in the mirror, decided to be the old Nathan Ford again. The one who wore good suits and classy ties, who styled his hair back fashionably, and would rather be caught dead than in an oversized cowboy buckle, or a too-loud Hawaiian shirt.

The man who didn’t run a gang of thieves.

There were other ways to help people. Ways that were less risky. Less…illegal. And if they were less fun, if they failed to get his pulse racing the way it used to, well that was what happened when you went back to respectability. Responsibility.

Nate Ford had been irresponsible before. It hadn’t made anything better. 

He stares at the three figures making a disaster of his clean, orderly condo, the wires and cables and screens, and feels something settle on his shoulders. A weight that isn’t a weight, a yoke that pulls him, as much as he pulls it.

His eyes close, and he savors the anticipation.

And then he smiles.

He wants this. He might, in fact, need it.

And he knows, the way they knew, that he is going to take it.

And he picks up his coffee mug, and goes to join them.

#

He knows that this life is not real. He's an alcoholic who doesn't wake up without craving the smokey taste of whiskey, an honest criminal mastermind still clinging to his delusions, and none of it can last, not for long.

But if it’s a con, he thinks, it’s going to be the best one he’s ever run.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal in 2010.
> 
>  
> 
> Absolutely no connection to Matt Forbeck's Leverage novel. Some titles are just too good (too obvious) to use, even in different contexts.


End file.
